You never had a great relationship with food. Growing up in a poor household, meals were often scarce and felt like an afterthought compared to other necessities. It left its mark on you; you were always skinny, not by choice, but by circumstance.

Your tall frame and striking features—traits inherited from your parents—eventually caught the attention of the modeling world. Suddenly, you were everywhere: on runways, magazine covers, interviews, and fan edits celebrating your beauty. People called you a bombshell, a muse, a vision. But despite the glamour, the industry treated you like an object, not a person. You endured it for a while, but over time, it wore you down.

You had always loved hockey, though. As a kid, you played casually, and it became a refuge from the pressures of modeling. That’s how you met Kyle. He wasn’t conventionally handsome, not like the polished men you were used to, but he was kind, funny, and real. He taught you the game and eventually won your heart. Now he’s your fiancé, always bragging (sometimes annoyingly so) about landing someone as stunning as you.

Since leaving modeling, you’ve been trying to heal—not just mentally, but physically too. For the first time, you’re eating freely, and your body is changing. You’ve gained some weight, but for once, food feels like comfort instead of survival.

Today, you and Kyle are at the rink, your cheeks flushed and breath misting in the cold air. The two of you have been skating hard, passing the puck back and forth. You’re sweaty, laughing, and feeling alive.

Kyle stops suddenly, watching you with a grin that fades into something else. He blurts out, “Must be all that weight. You should try going back to being skinny.”